


Since I Am Here, And You Are Here

by awkwardCerberus



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Cuties, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, and also for a friend, au where all the bad stuff never happened and they're happy together, this has no purpose other than to make me smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardCerberus/pseuds/awkwardCerberus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...Here we are, you and I<br/>Let the World just hurry by<br/>Even while I waited, somehow, dear, I knew<br/>You'd find me, and I'd find you..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Since I Am Here, And You Are Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rest_In_Spaghetti_Never_Forgetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest_In_Spaghetti_Never_Forgetti/gifts).



> I read TGG in English class and HOOOOOO boy I love that book. And then I went and watched the movie. And then I saw how gay Nick and Gatsby were for each other. So here we are again
> 
> Inspired by the song "Here We Are" by Annette Hanshaw bc that song is totally them

It had been another wild party at Gatsby's. Mobs of people roaring through the driveway, drinking like the end of the world, and swarming through the house to join the other mobs of people, already drunk like the end of the world. Several troops of entertainers flocking about to various wings of the great house to sing, or play their music, or whatever stunt they had come to preform. Fleets of servers making their way through the labyrinth of partygoers with never-empty trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

A typical night.

I myself had begun the party by letting Gatsby dress me in some fancy dark-almost-black-purple suit with a white bow tie. He said the dark color complimented my eyes, although he said the bow tie was only to break up the dark monotony of the suit. Curiously enough, Gatsby had been wearing the same white and black tuxedo he always seemed to wear at his parties. Knowing the size of his closet, however, I knew better to ask if he only had the one.

I had planned to spend the evening by his side, as I always did. His large parties began to wear on me after a while, and it was nice to be able to follow him for the night, as he was usually the only one I knew. I would always end up asking to see him aside in some lonely other room where it was just us, and we could sit in the quiet and recover ourselves before having to return to the loud music and louder guests.

But now all that was over. The party had gone on so late into the night that it ended early in the morning. Some grandfather clock in some drawing room untouched by the night's events alerted us to it being a quarter after three in the morning.

I was much too tired to worry about the time though. One of Gatsby's legion of servants approached me with a tray that had a half-filled glass of champagne on it, and I politely waved him away. I passed a group of butlers working on pulling a woman's extravagant, beaded flapper dress from one of the filter doors on the pool. Another group had brought out a trio of ladders and was working on untangling several martini glasses from the crystals of the ballroom chandelier.

I found Gatsby standing in one of the smaller dancing rooms, staring fondly out the window at the crew working on cleaning the ticker tape from the fountain.

"Jay," I spoke his name softly, announcing that I was there.

He turned around to look at me, a faint smile on his lips as he toyed with his cufflinks, "ah, there you are. I was wondering if you'd gone to bed yet. How was the party, old sport?"

I only shrugged. He nodded as though he already knew my answer—one that I had been too exhausted from the day to even think up.

Gatsby stepped over to a cabinet and opened the dark oak doors. A pallet pulled out smoothly, atop which there was a small Victrola—the needle poised over a record that had begun to start spinning when Gatsby spun a little handle on the side.

Part of me cringed when the needle dropped, as no part of me was in any mood to dance at that moment. Although, to my small surprise, it wasn't another Charleston. A moaning, lone trumpet whined out of the cone as Gatsby stepped across the room. The notes were slow and drawn out, an abrupt change from the upbeat jazz of a couple hours ago.

As a piano joined the slow waltz of the song, Gatsby's hand found mine, and his other arm found its way around my waist. He flashed me another one of those signature smiles, and I returned the favor by resting my head on his shoulder.

We stepped around the room in sleepy circles in something of a waltz, letting the slow trumpet and piano drone on from the record player. Gatsby had gotten rather good at leading Nick—half asleep already—around the room, all the while Gatsby being led by the music. We turned in circles for what felt like endless hours, until the world melted away at the seams and we were all alone in our drowsy ecstasy, until we were both to tired to remember the proper steps.

The final notes of the trumpet squawked out of the record, and the last few key of the piano trickled away into the quiet of the early hours. We stopped dancing, and stood there in each other's arms. The staff clamored around trying to clean the mansion, sometimes calling out among other small noises. Though we weren't waltzing anymore, we were instead swaying back and forth where we stood. Every so often Gatsby would press a small kiss into my hair, or onto my forehead until I was practically asleep on my feet.

"Tired, old sport? How's about we go sleep in bed rather than the banquet room?"

I'm not sure whether I nodded or made a small "mhmm", but either way, Gatsby was leading me up the stairs and towards our master suite.

The bed was so inviting and warm, that I squirmed out of my shoes in the doorway, walked over to the edge of the mattress, and let my weight fall down onto the cloud of goose feather duvets and damask sheets. Across the room, Gatsby laughed to himself with a quiet, "always classy, old sport", as he undid his bow tie and cuff links.

I distinctly remember how gentle his hands were as he rolled me out of my clothes. The way his hands worked off my jacket, vest and tie; how he slid my suspenders off and slid my suit pants down my legs without so much as making me twitch. Gatsby turned the electric lamp off on one of the bureaus, leaving the room at the mercy of the moonlight. He draped both his and my clothes over the back of a chez lounge as he made his way back to the bed—utterly gorgeous as he stood there in the darkness, in only his boxers and undershirt.

He pulled back the covers of the bed and slid his body in gracefully next to mine. Gatsby drew me in and rolled me over in his arms, pressing my back into his chest and wrapping his arms around my middle for the second time that night. His lips were soft and his breath was warm as he busied himself with kissing the back of my neck and periodically whispering I-love-you's into my skin.

"Good night, old sport," he said quietly, at last.

"G'night, Jay."

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd so mistakes are mine.


End file.
